


The Hanyou's Prayer

by obsolete_theory (ersatzbeta)



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Reality, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-06
Updated: 2010-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ersatzbeta/pseuds/obsolete_theory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gojyo has a mishap and has to live with the life-altering consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a couple of notes here. One: this is an alternate reality, meaning that the story takes place in the canon universe, more or less, but breaks off from the canon storyline. Two: There may, eventually, be both canon-typical violence and sex between men. There isn't anything like that to warn for in this chapter. Three: I'm shooting for this story to have only three or four chapters, so there may be significant time jumps between chapters. And, finally, I hope you enjoy!

"We should have gone left," says Gojyo. "I told you, I remembered the statue with the…well, you know."

Even when Gojyo pantomimes just exactly what about the statue had caught his eye, Sanzo doesn't rise to the bait. Gojyo sighs and keeps walking. They've been wandering around for hours in a dusty, ancient, disgustingly _empty_ palace. They'd come because there'd been rumors of a lost sutra here, and had, stupidly, split up to cover more ground. Gojyo knows they are hopelessly lost. They haven't seen Hakkai or Goku since entering the place, and it is sheer luck that he and Sanzo had ran into each other at some point. This place is a miserable rabbit-warren of tunnels and rooms, courtyards and palisades that connect to each other through convoluted staircases and hallways.

Gojyo is frustrated with all of it. Of course this stop on their journey is a wild goose chase. Of course it would be his luck to be stuck with Sanzo. If he'd been roaming around with Hakkai, at least they would talk to each other to help pass the time. Sanzo hasn't said a word more than absolutely necessary, and it's wearing on Gojyo's nerves.

"Wipe that look off your face," says Sanzo. "You're distracting me."

"Why Sanzo," says Gojyo. "I never would have guessed. You think I'm distracting?"

He makes his third-best come-hither face. Sanzo is unattainable and therefore isn't worth his best work: Gojyo saves that for serious seductions.

"You're leering," says Sanzo. "It's disgusting, and your lust is throwing off my attempts to sense the others."

"Pfft," says Gojyo. "That's not lust. You want lust, I'll…"

Gojyo stops talking at the sight of a massive pair of doors, all done out in sheets of bronze. The pull-rings on the doors are bigger than his head.

"Hey," says Gojyo. "What do you think's behind those?"

The doors swing open at Gojyo's touch like he's pulling open a cupboard door, not something four times his own height. They enter, and it's a huge chamber behind the doors, a pillared arcade that might well be the middle of the palace. Other than that, there's very little remarkable about the room. It's done out in the same boring stone they've seen for the past who-knew how many hours. It's brownish and boring and covered in dust. And then, Gojyo spots something interesting.

There's a big statue of a youkai in the middle, a worn inscription running around the base of it. It's incredibly lifelike. It fascinates him. Gojyo walks up closer. It's even dressed in real clothing. He reaches out to touch it, convinced that it will suddenly leap out at him, alive.

"No! Don't!" says Sanzo.

But it's too late. Gojyo's hand--no, his whole body--is locked in place the instant he touches the statue, and the sensations running through him are somewhere between electrocution and the best sex he's ever had. It feels like all his nerves are on the outside, exposed, like he's been scraped raw. Gojyo can't breathe, can't move, can't think, can't see beyond a white blurriness. His heart squeezes.

Then the connection cuts, the circuit breaks and Gojyo drops to the floor. He's wringing wet with sweat and completely exhausted. He trembles convulsively, breathing in the dust on the floor.

"What the hell was that?" says Gojyo. "Sanzo?"

His voice is rougher, scratchier. He almost doesn't recognize himself. His head rings and his ears buzz. He rests for a minute or two, pressed against the cool floor, struggling to scrape up enough strength to sit up, to move, to do anything but lay prone.

"Gojyo," says Sanzo.

There is something in Sanzo's tone that catches his attention. And, in spite of himself, Gojyo begins to feel afraid.

Gojyo shoves up off the floor, too fast, and though he is sitting still, the room swirls around him. And then he looks down at his hand, the steady hand and arm that hold him off the floor. It's still his arm, his skin and scars and the few faint freckles that still haven't disappeared despite how tan he's gotten wandering through the desert. But…his hands.

His tendons stand out like the bones in a bat's wings, and the joints are grotesquely developed; he flexes his hand, just to be sure it's really his. And it is, though it's a lot more...something now. His fingers are longer and tipped with vicious, pointed claws. They're not nails, not any more. They're definitely claws, complete with curved, slightly hooked ends. He moves his hand again, watching.

Gojyo's seeing things with frightening clarity. The floor is made of a stone that has strange shimmers running through it; the edges of each paving block are slightly rounded; he can see his pulse in his wrist; he can count the threads in the leg of his pants without even trying.

"Shit," he says. "Shit."

He can't avoid noticing these things, and he can't ignore the fact that his hearing is a lot sharper than it used to be as well. That horrible sound, the thing that sounds like a wounded animal at the mouth of a wind tunnel? It's his own breathing. He puts a hand to his chest to be sure and jerks it away again because he hears his fingers--his _claws_ \--scraping against his clothes and it's like nails on a chalkboard. Gojyo can't help panicking a little.

He pulls himself up at the feet of the statue and leans heavily against it. He looks around for Sanzo, as if this is some sort of horrible dream or hallucination and, as much as it might suck to ask for Sanzo's help, he's sure that Sanzo can break whatever spell he's under. But the wild hope that rises in Gojyo at the thought, that hysteria, is smashed when he sees Sanzo staring at him from a safe distance.

"I told you not to touch it," says Sanzo.

Gojyo sees through the flip answer in the way that Sanzo's hands shake as he rummages through his sleeves and comes out with a cigarette and his lighter. Sanzo's developing wrinkles are all deep at the moment, pulled down around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. For a brief second, Sanzo looks _old_. Gojyo panics a little more.

"What's happened?" says Gojyo. "I mean, this is a dream, an illusion, right?"

He goes to push the hair out of his eyes and freezes at the sight of his claws. Instead, he tries to shake the hair backward. Whoa. There's a lot more of it than normal; he feels it slap against the small of his back, where normally a toss of his hair might hit the tops of his shoulder blades.

"You look ridiculous," says Sanzo. "Patience is a virtue, you know."

Still, Sanzo is quick to set his unlit cigarette down. He seats himself on the floor, and Gojyo recognizes the signs that he's about to do something monk-ish, for a change. The signs of stress seem to melt away from Sanzo's face as he arranges his limbs and robes just so, eyes sliding shut. His fingers fold together. An inner calm takes over Gojyo and he waits.

Sanzo's eyes snap open again and Gojyo is pinned in place. Sanzo's eyes are so very, very violet, and it feels like he is looking through Gojyo, is looking through his past and into his future with that long, unblinking stare. Gojyo hardly dares to breath because he doesn't know what might happen if he interrupts.

At length Sanzo breaks it off. He closes his eyes, rubs his temples like he's got a splitting headache, and levers himself back up off the floor. He puts away his lighter and his cigarette.

"Well?" says Gojyo. "This is a practical joke, right?"

"You're a full youkai now," says Sanzo. "I have no way to turn you back."

Gojyo stares at Sanzo as he dusts off his robes. Sanzo sighs. Gojyo can hear him grinding his teeth from here.

"Congratulations," Sanzo says. "It's a boy."

"Hey!" Gojyo says. "Not funny!"

And then he catches sight of himself, reflected in the burnished metal of one of the great doors they'd opened to get into the room. He stops cold. He doesn't recognize himself anymore.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" he says.

And damn, but his voice hasn't gone that high in years, but he can blame it on the fact that every-fucking-thing has gone completely _wrong_.

"I suggest we find the others," says Sanzo. "But first…"

Sanzo whips the sutra off his shoulders, feeds it through his hands, and chants. Gojyo starts to hyperventilate. Sanzo's going to kill him. He's really going to do it this time. Still, Gojyo knows he has nowhere to run in this big box of a room and so he stands, cringing only a little. The sutra whips out at him and he closes his eyes, not really caring to see himself die. He tells himself he's not a coward.

Something wraps around Gojyo's wrist--a loop of the sutra, maybe?--and he steels himself for what is probably a painful experience, if the screams at the hundreds of sutra-caused deaths he's witnessed are anything to go by. And then, an explosion and this is it, this is it. Pelted by flying debris, Gojyo lets out an involuntary cry as sutra around his wrist tightens, white hot and grinding his bones together.

Gojyo's vision goes white, then grey. He's on the edge of consciousness and then…then…the pain of his wrist flares and fades down to nothing, and he feels suddenly better, enough to open his eyes again. He gapes at what he sees.

The statue is now a pile of smoking rubble, laced with yards and yards of the sutra. Gojyo's heart is beginning to slow down now, and he's got his breath back, along with enough energy to yell.

"What the hell, Sanzo!" he says. "You could have killed me! Why didn't you warn me, huh? You practically yanked my arm off, too!"

"You're welcome," says Sanzo. "Not that I'd expect you to understand what I've done for you."

He's reeling in the sutra, and the end of the thing slides off of Gojyo's wrist. Gojyo stares, unbelieving. There's a bracelet there, thick, utilitarian bronze, formed closely to the shape of the flesh beneath it. There are a few simple lines scored into the face of the metal, spanning the breadth of it. He rotates his hand, looking for the clasp. There it is, a simple hinge. Gojyo slides a finger underneath the bracelet, ready to take it off. And then he realizes his hands are normal again and he stops.

"Sanzo, is this?" says Gojyo.

He swallows hard. Goosebumps shiver across Gojyo's skin, and he feels dizzy.

"What do you think, dumbass?" says Sanzo. "I can't have you running around killing humans just for the hell of it. We've got a job to do, remember?"

"It's a limiter," says Gojyo. "my limiter?"

He holds his wrist up, looking at it from a distance. It's then that Gojyo notices that a strip of bronze is missing from one of the great doors at the entrance. He looks sideways at Sanzo.

"I'm not a jeweler," says Sanzo. "If you don't like it, too bad."

Gojyo snorts. No way he's going to massage Sanzo's ego over this, even if Sanzo has probably saved his life. Again. Gojyo knows he couldn't have run around as a full youkai for the rest of the trip, not if he wanted to keep his sanity.

"Nice job on the statue," Gojyo says. "What, did the sculpture offend your holy sensibilities?"

He kicks the pile of rocks, gentle-like, and the rubble shifts and settles further.

"As a matter of fact, it did," says Sanzo. "It was cursed. Anyone--and I mean _anyone_ \--who touched it would be turned into a youkai. I'd be a fool to leave something so dangerous for our enemies to find and use."

"But Kougaiji and his gang are already, well, you know." says Gojyo.

His thoughts stumble there as he thinks of just what, exactly, the band around his wrist is holding back. Gojyo shakes his head and tries to put hair-claws-sight- _youkai_ -smell-hair-claws out of his mind.

"What good would it do them?" says Gojyo.

"They could create whole armies by forcing humans to touch it," says Sanzo. "And that's the least harmful thing I can think of."

Gojyo pales. That would be very, very bad. Sanzo's lips twist into a sneer.

"Exactly," says Sanzo. "Now let's go find the others."

They leave the great room and walk in silence for a few minutes, cris-crossing the long, dusty halls, retracing their steps in the hopes that they'll run into Hakkai and Goku.

"Hey Sanzo," says Gojyo. "That statue…"

"What about it?" says Sanzo.

"You told me not to touch it," says Gojyo. "How did you know it was dangerous?"

Sanzo is silent for a minute or two more before he answers.

"The inscription," he says. "It was a prayer."

Gojyo stops in his tracks.

"A prayer?" says Gojyo. "What do you mean, a prayer?"

Sanzo turns to him and frowns.

"Keep walking," he says. "Yes, a prayer. A prayer for halfbloods."

Gojyo had been thinking that he was all out of surprise for the day, but Sanzo's matter-of-fact tone caught him off-guard.

"A prayer for halfbloods?" says Gojyo.

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" says Sanzo. "It was a request that their imperfections, their _humanity_ be stripped away and that they would be made whole."

Sanzo frowns and pulls out his lighter. He tries to light the same cigarette six times. Gojyo frowns.  He doesn't know if it's anger, fear, or withdrawal that's making Sanzo's hands shake, but it doesn't matter. That Sanzo isn't completely calm tells Gojyo how bad the situation really is.

"Idiots, the lot of them, wishing for that," says Sanzo. "But somehow they made it work, and anyone who touches it and isn't already a youkai…becomes one."

"So you destroyed it," says Gojyo.

"Yes," says Sanzo. "I did. You can thank me later."

"But it could have had some clue, some information on how to fix me!" says Gojyo.

He shoves his hands into his pockets to keep himself from punching Sanzo.

"And I already told you, there’s nothing to fix," says Sanzo. "There's nothing human left in you."

  
Gojyo is stunned into silence: after what Sanzo said, there really isn't anything else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious: I personally have never seen this scenario covered before. If anyone out there has and would like to make a recommendation, I'd love to hear about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two down, two to go! ^_^ I'm back faster than I'd expected to be. Under a week isn't too shabby, eh? Like the first chapter, there's a fair amount of swearing and gratuitous use of italics. Enjoy!

It's been twenty-three days now. They're traveling across another desert wasteland, no other life forms in sight save the odd vulture that gives them the once-over. Gojyo sighs and shifts around in the backseat, aware of every single lump and spring buried in the upholstery. He chalks this hypersensitivity up as another unwanted side-effect. Gods-damned palace. Fucking _accident_. Another day under the blazing hot sun might just drive Gojyo over the edge. There’s nothing out there but sand and rocks. As the jeep jolts over a sand-covered rock, the sunlight bounces off the bronze bracelet. He blinks away spots that float in his vision.

Gojyo's dying for a drink and, truth be told, could really use the mind-blurring effects of alcohol. He glances down at the metal wrapped around his wrist. Too bad his…condition…has made it impossible to get drunk with what they keep in the jeep. Gods know he's tried. Maybe if they hit an inn somewhere, he can manage to drown a portion of his woes, but warm beer out of the cooler doesn't cut it, not when every jerk and sway of the car navigating the rough ground sends the ends of Sanzo's sutra flapping into his line of sight.

He's still surprised by the clarity of his sight, how sharp his hearing is, how even his senses of taste and smell and touch have improved. Gojyo smokes more these days, trying to blot out sensation and memory alike with cigarette smoke. Mostly it hasn't worked: he hasn't gone a millisecond without his limiter, and he can't stop thinking about it.

He pushes the hair out of his face and it's immediately blown back, along with enough road grit to make his eyes water. He reaches for his beer. It's empty. So is the cooler. Gojyo sighs and his hair slaps him across the cheek.

"We coming to a town any time soon, Hakkai?" says Gojyo. "Supplies are running low, if you catch my drift."

He catches Hakkai's eye in the rearview mirror and waggles his empty beer can in the air.

"Oh?" says Hakkai. "If you'd like, you can check the map, but I believe we won't reach civilization until tomorrow morning."

The gentle click and thud of the glove box opening precedes Sanzo shoving the map in Gojyo's face.

"Hey, watch it!" says Gojyo. "You almost poked my eye out!"

Sanzo's snort is audible. So is the flick of his lighter. Gojyo inhales greedily, hoping to suck up whatever second-hand smoke isn't blown out of the jeep. His cigarettes ran out yesterday morning, and Sanzo, being the stingy bastard that he is, has been refusing to share his.

Granted, Sanzo doesn't share _anything_ with Gojyo these days; Gojyo isn't sure whether or not to be grateful that Sanzo hasn't so much as looked at him--let alone hit, shot at, or used Gojyo to sharpen his tongue on--since they'd found Goku and Hakkai and had left that stupid, stupid palace. Temple. Whatever. But that was three weeks ago, easy. Gojyo suspects Sanzo is waiting for the ideal moment (probably the second he thinks Gojyo's forgotten what happened) to lay into him. He snorts. Not going to happen. He's not forgetting jack.

Gojyo unfolds the map and traces the lightly penciled line that marks their journey. He doesn't know who's been drawing it, Hakkai or Sanzo, but he has yet to figure out how anyone knows where they've been. He frowns down at the tiny dot on the line that represents that great, empty, bronze-doored palace.

"Well?" says Sanzo.

Startled, Gojyo stares at the back of Sanzo's seat, not daring to try to make eye contact in one of the mirrors. He blurts out the first thing that comes into his head.

"You sound like shit," says Gojyo.

And it's true. Sanzo sounds awful. He sounds exhausted and dried-out and like he's chain-smoked his way through an entire truckload of cigarettes. As if to confirm this, Sanzo starts coughing and doesn't stop until he's gasping for breath.

Goku leans forward over the seats, shoving his way into Sanzo's personal space…and Gojyo's knees.

"You okay, Sanzo?" says Goku. "Hey, Hakkai, maybe we should pull over so Sanzo can have a rest."

"Move it, monkey," says Gojyo. "Sit in your own damn seat. His holiness is fine."

His heart isn't in the banter today, and his sarcasm falls flat, sounding suspiciously like worry. He crumples up the map and tosses it forward. Hakkai catches it with one hand, his sigh audible even above the road noise. Gojyo winces at the thought that maybe it's his hearing that's gotten sharper and not Hakkai's expressions of dismay and resignation.

"I'm afraid there's nowhere to stop," says Hakkai. "It's best to press on. Perhaps we'll be able to make it to a town a little sooner that way."

"I'm not an invalid," says Sanzo. "Don't talk about me like I can't hear you."

There's the sound of his fan sliding out of his sleeve, and Goku must hear it too because he bounces back into his seat and crosses his arms.

"It's just an idea," says Goku. "Anyway, I'm so bored! There's nothing to do."

"You can be bored quietly," says Sanzo. "So shut it."

Sanzo lays the fan on the dashboard in the space that's visible between the two front seats. It's in easy reach should anyone--namely Goku--keep fussing. He takes the map from Hakkai and begins to smooth it out. Gojyo knows Sanzo probably knows what bothered him about it, and so he makes an effort to look away over the landscape and not, as he'd like, at Sanzo for some sign of recognition. Understanding would be way too much to hope for. Not that Sanzo could even begin to understand this.

Besides the physical side-effects, which are bad enough on their own, there's the issue of the limiter itself. He sometimes feels a resonance in it, a tingle that shoots through the metal and through his body, reaching out to the sutra on Sanzo's shoulders. It increases until Gojyo can barely think if Sanzo is too close or is angry enough that the sutra responds to his emotions…in other words, almost all the time.

What's worse is the way everyone's avoiding saying anything about the bracelet. Gojyo doesn't want anyone to know what's happened to him. It's kind of impossible to think about, let alone explain. He knows he'll die if he has to _talk_ about it. Talking is for pansies who aren't on this road-trip from hell, people who aren't being sent to the showdown of the century.

The thought makes him queasy.

He is equally certain that Goku and Hakkai already know and have known since the day that statue turned his life upside down. Gojyo catches Goku staring at the limiter, from time to time, but the kid never says anything about it. Usually politeness and tact are Hakkai's bailiwick. Goku has picked a hell of a time to stop being his usual annoying self.

Gojyo looks down at his wrist for the millionth time in the past three weeks. He wonders what Hakkai would think. Does think. Not that Hakkai doesn't already know something's eating away at him, but it's one thing to suspect that Hakkai's holding back and another to actually want him to say just exactly what he means when he _looks_ at Gojyo a certain way and gives one of his patented false smiles.

Gojyo hasn't been acting like his normal self. He knows this, and it bothers him. Deeply. He flashes back to Sanzo's words at the palace: there isn't anything human left in him. Gojyo frowns. He twists the bracelet around his wrist and studies the hinge. It would be so easy to just take the damn thing off.

Does this mean he'll never get back to being himself? He's a little freaked out at the idea that the best parts of him are either gone now or, maybe, came from his youkai half to begin with. Knowing how Hakkai feels about the topic in general does nothing to comfort him. Fuck, if he can't confess this to his _best friend_ , what options does he have? Hakkai would probably forgive anything else, anything else at all. If Gojyo had killed someone--several someones, even--Hakkai would probably just smile and ask him what he wanted for dinner. But this?

Hakkai would never talk to him again, and that's almost worse than knowing he's going to spend the rest of his life as a youkai.

Gojyo perks up at the sound of the jeep downshifting. He pays more attention to the landscape and sees a small grove of trees. Hakkai's turning them toward it. This far out in the desert, trees mean a good water source. Looks like they'll be making an unscheduled stop after all.

"Hey, Hakkai. Was this on the map?" Gojyo says. "Not that I'm complaining."

His mood brightens at the thought of stretching his legs. A few minutes out of the jeep, away from the others, would be really, really nice.

"No," says Hakkai. "But, I might add, the map is nowhere near a comprehensive guide to the land."

"I don't like it," says Sanzo. "It's awfully convenient, wouldn't you say?"

There is a short pause, with no sounds but the crunch of the tires rolling over some gravel. Hakkai sighs.

"We need the water," says Hakkai. "And please don't try to tell me that you would rather keep driving, Sanzo."

Apparently Sanzo's not the only one running on empty today.

"If you're leading us into a trap," says Sanzo.

Goku interrupts, and Sanzo doesn't have a chance to finish.

"If it's a trap, we'll kick their asses!" he says. "Right Sanzo? And anyway, a fight would be way less boring than counting the rocks that go by."

Gojyo smiles. It feels like old times again.

"Like you can count that high, ya dumb monkey," says Gojyo.

He looks over at Goku, and Goku seems cheered up at the dig.

"I can count plenty high," says Goku. "And at least I'm not the one that--"

The occupants of the jeep go silent, watching the horizon with fascinated horror.

Youkai start popping up from the sand that lies between the jeep and the oasis. Hordes of youkai. A vast sea of screaming, slavering, clamoring youkai bent on taking them out. Just great. Just fucking great. Instead of stretching his legs and maybe sitting in whatever shade the oasis can afford them, Gojyo's going to be working up even more of a sweat.

Hakkai brakes hard, shifting down and stopping fast. In anticipation of the fight, they all jump out, and the jeep transforms into Hakuryuu. Their baggage is dumped unceremoniously to the ground. The little white dragon flutters away to a safe distance, leaving the four of them and their pile of gear behind. The rumble-roar of the youkai crowd grows louder. Gojyo can pick out the clash of weapons and the stamping of many, many feet.

"I realize this terrain affords little advantage to anyone," says Hakkai. "However, I suggest we move away from our supplies. I'd hate for any of it to be damaged."

So they do exactly that, which, Gojyo realizes with a groan, means moving closer to the people who want to kill them. He snorts. Like they count as people when they're this far gone. With a start, he is struck by the idea that he could have been one of their number, could still turn into one of them if he's not careful. He'd been in no danger before from the troubles that swept over the land, but now…

Then it occurs to Gojyo that maybe his shakujou won't manifest. He goes cold and clammy in an instant. Sure, it worked before when he was still…he veers away from that thought. It has to work. Goku's nyoi-bo works, after all, and he's always been a youkai with a limiter. But, the voice in his head that sounds like Sanzo reminds him, his situation is different. Nobody that he's ever heard of has had this happen.

He concentrates and summons his shakujou. There's a moment of reluctance and the bracelet around his wrist goes heavy and warm, and there's just enough time for him to start panicking before the comforting weight of his weapon drops into his hands. Gojyo looks down at it, more out of habit than anything else, and does a double-take.

"Well shit," he says. "That's new."

The shakujou's different in small ways: the pole is a bit fancier, the blades a little more sharply curved. The release for the chain is further up now, and at first Gojyo doesn't understand why. There's something odd about the crescent blade, too. The changes make him nervous, which he channels into anger. He doesn't need to be messing with a weapon that's less familiar than it used to be. He really doesn't need this, not now when a couple hundred youkai are howling for his blood and are pouring over the top of the nearest sand dune. He's going to be fucked if he can't wield it with his usual skill.

While Hakkai exchanges opening pleasantries with the apparent leaders of the mob, Gojyo gives the shakujou a spin.

 _Oh_. He grins for the first time in weeks. _Wicked_.

The crescent blade is now, in fact, two blades stacked on top of each other, one fixed in place at the end of the chain and the other free to slide around and rotate three hundred and sixty degrees _over_ the first blade; the points of that second crescent actually come up over the grip and past the old chain release before coming around again to rest  on top of the fixed half. No wonder the release was so high now. Any lower and he'd shear off a finger trying to use the damn thing.

The youkai are practically on top of them. Gojyo looks around, briefly. Sanzo's got his gun and is sneering at the would-be assassins. The air crackles with Hakkai's qi. Goku has the biggest smile on his face, nyoi-bo extended and at the ready. The others are well out of the path of his shakujou. Good.

"Hey Goku," he says.

The kid glances over at him.

"Yeah?" he says.

"Race you to the top of the hill," Gojyo says.

Goku laughs, his eyes flashing, excitable as always.

"You're on," he says.

He turns back to focus on the seething mass of bodies. Gojyo catches Sanzo's eye, then Hakkai's. They exchange nods, words no longer necessary because they've done this so many times before. On the count of three: one, two, three.

Gojyo thumbs the release.

The bodies are calf-deep. Supplies strapped to his back, sweating like a pig under the hot, hot sun, Gojyo reflects that, just maybe, he went a little overboard in trying out his new-and-improved shakujou. Oh, to be sure, his baby had worked like a freaking charm. Severed limbs, severed heads, and youkai cut in half were what he'd expected---and received. He just hadn't thought it would be quite so messy. A blade that makes a complete, circular rotation? Also _splatters_ in a full circle. Though Gojyo had escaped some of the mess, it hadn't been physically possible to dodge of all it, not with the force he'd used to cut through the crowd.

And then comes the issue of friendly fire.

Sanzo had yelled at him for tagging his robes. He knows Gojyo's an idiot but really, he'd thought the kappa could handle himself in a fight. Goku had punched him a bit because, dammit, does Gojyo know how hard it is to get intestines out of hair when they've been baked in by the desert sun? And what the hell was wrong with him, anyway? Hakkai had informed Gojyo that he could cart their gear over to the (thankfully real) oasis, since he'd managed to hit Hakuryuu with a severed hand, and Hakuryuu consequently does not feel like being a jeep for the time being. Hakkai hadn't said anything about the gore on his own clothing, but Gojyo guesses he's pretty pissed. Hakkai's tight-lipped smile had said it all.

Truth be told, Gojyo's a little angry with himself, too. If he could have controlled his weapon better, he wouldn't now be carrying supplies for four people across a mile of desert in the middle of the day. He wouldn't be wading through a field of stinking, rapidly bloating bodies. This is punishment because, pure and simple, he can't control himself. There's no denying that his weapon is an extension of himself, and he has no excuse for letting it get out of control. He should have done better. A niggling voice inside him says that he could have, too, if he'd just tried a little harder.

Though it's supposed to be punishment to carry the gear, the packs on his back are practically feather-light. Gojyo shifts the straps of the burden tied to him and marvels. He'd thought he'd been strong as a hanyou. That strength, however, is nothing compared to how he feels now, even with a limiter. What weighs him down is guilt. He feels bad about his lack of control, true, but there's been a thought at the back of his head this whole time which causes far more guilt than what he feels over splattering his friends--his comrades--with things formerly on the insides of youkai bodies.

Gojyo wipes the sweat off his brow and, ever so lightly, passes over the scars on his cheek.

"If mother could see me now," he says.

And then he laughs at himself, more than a little bitter. It's a stupid thought. Being a youkai _now_ does nothing to change his past. His heart twists in his chest, and he forces himself to focus on his surroundings. He's startled to discover he's finally made it through the leftovers from the fight and is now walking on beautifully clean, stench-less sand.

Not long after that, Gojyo reaches the oasis. There's maybe a dozen trees and a scrawny covering of grass on the ground, all surrounding a pool of water. It looks like paradise. He drops the baggage under of one of the trees and stands for a moment, enjoying the shade. He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head.

"Ah, there you are, Gojyo," says Hakkai.

Gojyo doesn't quite jump out of his skin. Hakkai's still amazingly, sneakily quiet, even to Gojyo's enhanced senses. He opens one eye.

"Stuff's here," says Gojyo.

"I see," says Hakkai. "Here. Take this."

He hands a bucket to Gojyo. Something thunks in the bottom of it. Gojyo opens his other eye as well and tips the bucket to look into it. There's a bar of soap and a washcloth.

"I thought you might want to wash before we get on the road again," says Hakkai. "Hakuryuu doesn't like it when his upholstery gets dirty, you know."

Gojyo stares at Hakkai. Hakkai smiles back.

"Hurry along," he says. "Sanzo has already expressed his desire to leave."

Gojyo looks around for the monk and spots him, halfway around the pond, apparently napping in the shade. Goku is halfway up the nearest tree to Sanzo, keeping watch.

"Doesn't look like he's ready to hit the road to me," says Gojyo.

Hakkai's smile falters for a second before brightening again.

"Yes, well," he says. "I hoped we might have a chance to talk before he wakes."

"Talk?" says Gojyo. "Look, if it's about the backsplash, I'm really, really sorry, okay?"

He moves forward a step or two, like he's heading to the edge of the water to bathe. He's got a sinking feeling about what Hakkai wants.

"It can wait, right?" Gojyo says. "But yeah. Thanks for the soap and all."

Gojyo keeps up the nonchalant act though, in reality, he's sweating bullets. He inches his way around Hakkai, step by step. He breathes a sigh of relief. He's clear. His nerves begin to settle again and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, things are going his way today, blood and gore notwithstanding.

Fast as a snake strikes, Hakkai reaches out and grabs him around the wrist, his fingers closing around the bronze bracelet. Gojyo freezes, filled with the urge to run away, _now_ , but unable to because Hakkai's hand is hard and his grip makes the metal dig in. Hakkai could probably break his wrist without trying. When Hakkai speaks, his voice is low and soft.

"We need to talk about this," says Hakkai. "I can be patient, but I have just about reached the end of what I can tolerate."

Hakkai is a fucking force of nature when he wants to be, and it looks like now is one of those times. Gojyo finds himself nodding, agreeing to Hakkai's politely-phrased demands, even when he knows it's the last thing he wants to do. What he wants is for Hakkai to let it go. Gojyo wants him to forget all about the bracelet-- _the limiter_ \--so that he himself can go on ignoring it too. But Hakkai won't. Gojyo keeps nodding absently until Hakkai's grip loosens. Hakkai, creating the illusion of privacy, turns away from him and starts rummaging through the supplies.

Gojyo is left alone with his bucket and washcloth and soap. He wrinkles his nose at the smell that's emanating from his clothes, a smell he's only just noticing now. He looks down at his clothes and sighs. He's going to have to change into something else. And then, because he can't help it, he sneaks a look at the wrist with the bracelet. It's still there. More than that, it's shining: though the rest of him is covered in dirt and dust and worse things, the bracelet is clean. Gojyo has the terrible thought that maybe it will look like it's newly forged for the rest of his life. Maybe even after he's dead. He doesn't know what happens to a youkai's limiter after death, and the ones he's met on this journey don't seem to have any.

Frowning down at his limiter, he traces the hinge with one fingertip. Gojyo remembers what his claws looked like and shudders. He can't imagine living his life out like this. Who would choose to be a youkai? How is this better than what he'd had? Gojyo clenches his hand. If he'd had claws, he'd have sliced his palm. At length, he forces himself to look away.

This might be the answer to someone else's prayers, but it isn't the answer to his.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, Hakkai and Gojyo didn't talk this chapter. I didn't want to squeeze it in at the end like an afterthought, though.


	3. Chapter 3

Gojyo realizes, as he rinses off the last traces of soap, that he doesn't have a towel. He looks around for a second, just to be sure. Nope. No towel, no clothes, save the ones he's gone ahead and scrubbed in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, Hakkai will be able to salvage them later. He would rather go naked than wear those clothes the way they are. He eyes the lack of convenient shrubs and sighs. Nudity isn't the problem: since they've been traveling together, the four of them have seen pretty much all there is to see of each other's bodies. No, it's the idea that a youkai might pop out of fucking nowhere and pick a fight that's got him antsy.

A polite cough comes from behind him, and he turns. There's his pack, and on top of it is a pair of pants and a towel. Gojyo can tell from the neat folds that this is Hakkai's work. He looks around, but Hakkai isn't immediately visible…no small feat in a place this empty.

"Thanks, Hakkai," he says, just in case Hakkai is within hearing.

Still, the knowledge that he's there, somewhere, waiting, sends adrenaline through Gojyo. His eyes drop down to the limiter around his wrist. The joint is a little sore, but there's no bruises or marks there, and the metal itself doesn't have so much as a fingerprint. Gojyo towels off quickly and puts on the pants.

His skin crawls and he knows he's being watched. He looks, out of the corner of his eye, first left, then right. A whiff of soap and skin drifts in the air, familiar. Gojyo can't place it immediately. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"You're welcome," says Hakkai.

A hand drops onto his shoulder and Gojyo congratulates himself for not jumping in the air. He turns around. Hakkai is holding a shirt in the other hand.

"I thought it prudent to mend this before you wore it," he says. "I hadn't meant to take so long with it."

"'s all right," says Gojyo. "You didn't have to do that, you know. It's only a shirt."

For some reason he feels nervous, watching Hakkai with his shirt. Hakkai displays the mend--barely visible-- and offers Gojyo the clothing. He takes it.

"I admit, I'm surprised," says Hakkai. "I thought you might have changed more."

Gojyo freezes with the shirt half-over his head. His heart picks up speed and pounds like he's just run for his life.

"I don't know what you're talking about," says Gojyo.

He fumbles the shirt the rest of the way on with cold fingers and finds Hakkai smiling at him when he finally gets his head through.

"Of course you do," says Hakkai. "Though I understand why you might not want to talk about it."

Hakkai tugs at the hem of the shirt, fussing over the way it lays. Gojyo lets him, even as Hakkai moves on to the neckline and makes sure none of Gojyo's hair is caught underneath the shirt. He speaks quietly into Gojyo's ear, but Gojyo hears every word.

"You don't have a youkai mark," says Hakkai. "I wasn't sure if you'd have one or not."

"Oh?" says Gojyo.

He turns to face Hakkai.

"I watched you rather closely, you see," says Hakkai. "Just now, while you bathed."

He gestures to the water and Gojyo notices, not for the first time, what long, narrow hands Hakkai has.

"I told myself it was for the benefit of the team," says Hakkai.

Gojyo doesn't know how to respond to this.  _Hakkai_ , skulking about in the proverbial bushes? And then, immediately after, _confessing_? For a minute, Gojyo is silent.  
   
"And was it?" says Gojyo. "For the team, I mean?"

Hakkai smiles again, and it looks like his heart is breaking.

"I wanted it to be," he says. "But strictly speaking, no. It wasn't."

Hakkai sighs, and his shoulders sort of fold in, like what keeps him standing is draining away, like he's given up on something. In spite of the…whatever-ing Hakkai has just admitted to, Gojyo is worried about him.

"Neither of the others would care, I think," says Hakkai. "As long as you can fight, as long as you can continue on this journey, they wouldn't care."

That Hakkai _does_ care is obvious. Gojyo finds his voice again.

"You could have asked," says Gojyo. "I…you're my best friend."

Hakkai laughs a little and stares up at the blindingly blue sky. The sun reflects off his monocle.

"Tell me," says Hakkai. "How does one ask if one's best friend is a youkai? How might one express the concern that this friend might suddenly go wild and start killing indiscriminately?"

Gojyo's first instinct is to scoff.

"I do have some self-control, you know," says Gojyo. "You know me. You know I wouldn't do that."

Hakkai looks away, and Gojyo sees then that this isn't about him all. It's about Hakkai. A very small piece of Gojyo, deep inside, stands down from red alert. Maybe things aren't as bad between them as he'd feared. Maybe Hakkai isn't going to reject him after all.

He reaches out for Hakkai, and Hakkai shies away. Shit. Hurt, Gojyo tries again. Hakkai's shoulder is bony under his hand. He's too thin. They're all too thin, worn down by everything that's happened to them so far, but it seems to have hit Hakkai harder than the rest of them. Hakkai tenses up and speaks again, and Gojyo can feel the air of his breath rushing through his body.

"I know myself," says Hakkai. "And still, I've done terrible things. Those actions came from me, are a part of me. If I can't trust myself, then how…?"

Hakkai looks so helpless, so hopeless. He's usually so in command of himself, and to see him like this… Though they're the same age, Gojyo sees how _young_ Hakkai really is.

"I trust you," says Gojyo.

Hakkai turns his face back to Gojyo. He looks startled. Gojyo is surprised too.

"Your confidence is enviable," says Hakkai.

"I mean it," says Gojyo.

The limiter around his wrist feels heavier than usual. He puts his other hand over it.

"And if I fail to live up to your expectations?" says Hakkai. "If your trust in me is mislaid?"

Hakkai has a strange look on his face. It's like he's expecting--has expected all along--that it's only a matter of time before he goes bad.

"Then I'll stop you," says Gojyo. "I'll stop you."

Hakkai goes quiet and still. It's not quite a suicide pact: if it were, Gojyo isn't sure that he'd be able to agree. But it's close enough that his stomach ties itself in knots to think of it. Time to change the subject, he thinks.

"So, uh," says Gojyo. "How'd you figure it out?"

Hakkai blinks a few times before focusing in on his face. It's like he's been somewhere or someone else for the past twenty minutes and he's only just joining the conversation. Gojyo would have laughed if he weren't so nervous.

"Beg pardon?" he says.

Gojyo's stomach does flips. His mouth is drier than the desert around them, and he can feel himself start to sweat. He has never considered himself a nervous sweater, but he wonders if he shouldn't revise his thinking.

"That I'm, well," says Gojyo. "What gave it away?"

He hadn't guessed that it would be this hard to say. It's ridiculous. Gojyo points to the bronze bracelet and then, when Hakkai still doesn't seem to get it, runs a finger along the curve of Hakkai's ear, along the three silver clips there. Understanding dawns, and Hakkai nods.

"To be honest," says Hakkai. "I didn't believe it at first, but your qi has been so radically different…"

Hakkai shrugs and it looks positively foreign, coming from him.

"I suppose I might have ignored some of the signs you've given," says Hakkai.

Hakkai hesitates a little, obviously thinking about how to phrase things. Gojyo feels like rolling his eyes. Hakkai's so fussy, so damn precise at times.

"I remember how difficult it was to modulate my responses," says Hakkai. "It felt like everything in the world was different. I struggled with the knowledge that the only thing that had changed was me."

"Hakkai," says Gojyo. "You're avoiding the question."

Hakkai sighs and looks up at the sky again. Gojyo follows his gaze. There's not a cloud in the sky, nothing to obscure the bright blue of it. He waits patiently for Hakkai to spit it out.

"There's no delicate way to phrase it," says Hakkai. "But you've been…twitching."

Gojyo can’t believe his ears.

"Twitching?" says Gojyo. "I've been _twitching_?"

Hakkai nods.

"But not to worry," he says. "Once you get used to your enhanced senses, you'll stop."

Gojyo is acutely embarrassed. He can't stand the sympathy evident on Hakkai's face. Here Gojyo was, thinking he'd been so careful to act as normally as possible under the circumstances, and he's been acting like an idiot, a spastic, _twitchy_ idiot every time he saw or smelled or heard or touched anything…Gojyo hangs his head and shoves his hands in his pockets. He's never going to live this down.

"I am the voice of experience after all," says Hakkai. "You're coping very well, you know."

"Just shut up and let me die of humiliation already," says Gojyo.

Even more humiliating is the way he's blushing. He doesn't _do_ blushing. Not usually, anyway.

"I'm afraid humiliation has never before induced death," says Hakkai.

"Then I'll be the first," says Gojyo, stubbornly.

Hakkai laughs then and Gojyo relaxes even further. Somehow, miraculously, they've managed to sidestep a lot of the hard parts of this conversation, and Gojyo isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Have you spent much time without your limiter?" says Hakkai.

Well fuck. There goes all the inner peace and tranquility and crap that Gojyo thought he'd had. It's back to gut-churning anxiety and the not-so-comforting, all-encompassing denial he's grown used to over the past few weeks. He answers cautiously.

"Some," he says.

Some, of course, being a very relative term: in this case, _some_ was the five or ten minutes directly after his…accident. Hakkai looks at Gojyo and it's like he can read minds now. Hakkai frowns at him. Gojyo can see the wheels turning in his head.

"I see," says Hakkai. "It would be wise of you to try it again sometime."

Gojyo just stares at him. Hakkai's the last person he'd expect to advocate the benefits of youkai life.

"I did so myself," says Hakkai. "Once upon a time."

"And you had an awesome time, I'm sure," says Gojyo.

"It was terrifying," says Hakkai. "But ultimately a very valuable experience."

Gojyo wants Hakkai to shut up. Now. Valuable experience his ass.

"It's a curse," says Gojyo.

"I know it might feel like that," says Hakkai. "But if--"

"No," says Gojyo, cutting off whatever else Hakkai might have said.

"I mean it's a literal curse," says Gojyo. "I touch one fucking statue and poof!"

He slides his hands out of his pockets and gestures to himself, as if to show what the statue has done. It's not very effective, considering he's got the limiter clamping down on whatever it is that stops him from looking--and largely acting--like a crazed youkai.

"I believe Sanzo mentioned something about a prayer," says Hakkai.

"You knew?" says Gojyo.

Fury rises up in Gojyo. Hakkai knew? Hakkai _knew_? Gojyo wants to show Hakkai, at that very second, just what exactly someone else's _prayer_ has done to him. He fits a finger underneath the limiter, ready to rip it off his hand because Hakkai has no idea what's going on with him, how angry he is. He's tongue tied and the only way to explain is to show.

But then, Hakkai's hand closes over his, and Gojyo looks up into his steady green eyes.

"I may have eavesdropped," says Hakkai. "Remember that monastery we visited, about a week later?"

Gojyo's thoughts swirl around. He shakes his head. He doesn't remember, but then, he'd had other things on his mind. His hands are curled tightly into fists. Hakkai's hand remains steady on him.

"Sanzo was doing a bit of unusual research there," says Hakkai. "But I had no idea it pertained to your situation."

Gojyo tries to process, but he's had so many little ups and downs already that he can't get beyond the obvious at this point. Hakkai hadn't known the particulars of his so-called situation, but he'd noticed Sanzo looking for answers to an unusual question. Okay. He can deal with this, just like anything else that comes his way. Gojyo takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out.

"Did Sanzo have any luck?" he says.

Gojyo doesn't want to feel the painful tug of hope at the moment, but there it is, buried like a hook underneath his ribs. He takes another deep breath.

"If he did, he's being remarkably tight-lipped about it," says Hakkai. "But I hazard the guess that he did not."

Gojyo hates that Hakkai sounds so conciliatory about it all, as if, oh, say, he'd been unable to locate Gojyo's favorite pair of pants while doing the washing and now those pants would have to wait until the next time. As if there would be some chance to do it all over again, later.

But then he hears Goku and Sanzo starting to stir. He consciously reins in the urge to flinch; Sanzo and Goku are so loud, even at this distance. Looks like he and Hakkai'll have to finish talking about this another time. Assuming they get another chance, which is never a guarantee these days. Hakkai looks past him and sighs.

"Please keep my suggestion in mind," says Hakkai. "You may gain some perspective, if you give yourself the chance. The situation may not be as dire as you believe."

Hakkai goes in the direction of their gear and, presumably, to find Hakuryuu. Gojyo can't help but think that it is deliberate, the way Hakkai grazes the limiter on Gojyo's wrist as he passes. And the tingle that the contact leaves in its wake…He strokes the metal thoughtfully. He promises himself a good long think on the matter. Later.

He turns around and sees that the jeep is ready to go. He picks up his tired feet and lopes over the sand toward them.

"Get your ass in the car or we leave you behind," calls Sanzo.

Besides Gojyo, Sanzo is the only one not yet in the car. This, of course, Gojyo sees, gives Sanzo the opportunity to sneer at him as he slings his pack into the backseat. Sanzo pulls out a lighter and his cigarettes.

"Yeah, yeah," says Gojyo. "Lend me a smoke, would you? I'm going to die without one."

"Get your own," says Sanzo. "You're the last person on the planet I'd share with."

Sanzo has a cigarette halfway to the flame of his lighter, and his lips are twisted into a smirk.

"If you insist," says Gojyo.

Faster than Sanzo can react, Gojyo reaches out and snags the cigarette that Sanzo's about to light. Heh. Looks like his new abilities are good for something after all. He grins at the dumbfounded Sanzo.

"Give it back before I shoot you," says Sanzo.

"Fuck that," says Gojyo.

He gives the cigarette a lengthwise lick. He catches Sanzo's horrified and furious look.

"You don't want it back now, do you?" Gojyo says.

Sanzo smacks him with his fan.

"Hey Sanzo," says Goku. "Does that really work? If I lick something like…say…the last meat bun, does that mean it's mine? I'm going to lick all the food supplies!"

Sanzo's attention is momentarily diverted to Goku, who is bouncing in his seat with excitement. He scowls, hard, at Goku. Goku settles down. Sanzo whirls back to Gojyo and hits him again across the back of the head.

"You ruined a perfectly good cigarette," says Sanzo. "And you gave the monkey ideas. You're going to pay for this, kappa."

"Maybe," says Gojyo. "But not today."

He feels remarkably cheerful while lighting up, stinging scalp notwithstanding. He ignores Sanzo's murderous look and hops into the jeep. Sanzo hikes his robes up and settles into the front seat.

"My, aren't we all getting along this afternoon," says Hakkai. "How nice."

"Don't you start," says Sanzo. "Just get driving. We don't have all day."

"Of course," says Hakkai. "To the west, I presume."

He inclines his head and Gojyo can see, in the rearview mirror, that Hakkai's eyes are bright with humor. Gojyo winks, and one of Hakkai's eyelids lowers fractionally. Hakkai looks away and the jeep rumbles its way through the lower gears.

  
Following the sun as it moves toward the western horizon, the jeep rolls on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder: the next chapter of this will be the final chapter. I hope you've been enjoying it just as much as I have.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating for this chapter is E for explicit material. It is also a long chapter...nearly as long as the rest of the story combined. I hope you enjoy!

At first for hours, then by days and weeks, Gojyo counts the time since his transformation. He wears his body like it's uncomfortable clothes, too stiff in the knees and chafing at the neck, never entirely convinced of who he now is. Hakkai's words— _It felt like everything in the world was different; the only thing that had changed was me_ —haunt him.

The four of them travel the land, wandering back and forth, and Gojyo looks all the while for a way to turn back time to the point where things still made sense. On afternoons where the road goes on too long, and the sun beats down hard, squashing the conversation out of all of them, Gojyo finds himself mouthing along to the litany in his head. Hakkai's words transform over time— _the only thing that has changed is me_. He struggles along under the weight of those half-realized words. They begin to sound like the truth.

Still, every time they come to a monastery or an ascetic somewhere in the back hills, Gojyo's hopes rise. He knows Sanzo is making inquiries, though the monk takes pains to hide it. Nothing ever comes of it. Gojyo can tell this by the way Sanzo carries himself, how he takes his time coming back from questioning this or that head monk or from a visit to what passes for the records room or library of wherever they find themselves. It goes the same every time, and every time Sanzo holds himself just a little less erect. Gojyo knows it's costing Sanzo to do this for him, that the price of the free information is Sanzo's pride. And as much as Gojyo may or may not like the guy, it isn't right to let Sanzo keep doing this. Some days it seems like all Sanzo has is his pride.

Gojyo corners him, late one night after Hakkai and Goku have already retired to their borrowed cells in the latest of a long string of monasteries. He surprises Sanzo outside the library. Gojyo boxes him in between the solid walls of the hallway and the length of his body: it's plenty enough to stop Sanzo in his tracks. Sanzo's face tightens into a frown.

"What are you doing here?" says Sanzo.

"You don't have to keep doing this," says Gojyo. "Even I can tell it's eating you up. Pretty soon even Goku's gonna notice."

He speaks soft, easy, low. No sense in disturbing anyone else who might be up at this hour. He knows Sanzo can hear him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," says Sanzo. "Now get out of my way before I shoot you."

Gojyo doesn't move and Sanzo doesn't back down from his threat. He pulls the gun from the sleeve of his robes.

"I mean it, Sanzo," says Gojyo. "It's not worth it. I'm not worth it. Fuck, man, I'm just one guy who's had some phenomenally bad luck."

Sanzo stares at him. This close, Gojyo can see every feathering crows-feet wrinkle he has, every line that's beginning to etch itself at the corners of his mouth. There are a lot. Gojyo notes the dark shadows under those brilliantly clear eyes, dark shadows that sleep doesn't seem to erase, shadows that persist, day after day.

"Tell me you don't actually believe the crap you're spouting," says Sanzo.

He digs the muzzle of the gun into Gojyo's chest. Gojyo remembers, vividly, that Sanzo has shot him before, in that exact same spot. He exhales. Sanzo's finger is steady on the trigger.

"The more you dig around, the shittier I feel," says Gojyo. "About all of it. It's just…easier if you stop. And that's the truth whether you shoot me or not."

"I'll do whatever I damn well please," says Sanzo.

Sanzo cocks the gun. Gojyo feels the start of sweat at his temples.

"Leave me out of it," says Gojyo. "Hell, leave me behind, for all I care. My head's not in the game and you know it."

"And here I was thinking that Hakkai was the self-sacrificing moron," says Sanzo.

He says this almost conversationally, but Gojyo is still pleased when Sanzo eases back and puts up his gun.

"My research has nothing to do with you and your pathetic whining," says Sanzo. "Consider this little conversation of ours a friendly warning. Next time, I shoot."

When Gojyo inhales, he can still feel the weight of the gun on his chest. He nods slowly and moves aside so Sanzo can leave.

"One more thing," says Sanzo. "What you do on your own time is your business. But when we're in a fight…"

"Yeah?" says Gojyo.

Sanzo is quiet for a minute. He gets out a cigarette and lights it, obviously choosing his words with care.

"I don't want you being distracted and getting us all killed," says Sanzo. "So do what you have to do, or I swear I'll kill you first and find someone else to take your place on our little road trip."

Sanzo plays the hard-ass all too well, lambasting him like this. Gojyo grins hard, recognizing concern when he sees it, even if it is dressed with sarcasm and scorn. Sanzo would never be able to find another person to join their four-man crusade, if he were to kill Gojyo for real. They're stuck with each other.

Sanzo sniffs and brushes past him. Gojyo is too busy trying not to hurt himself holding back his laughter to notice Sanzo's fan heading for the back of his head. _Crack_.

"Oww," says Gojyo. "Bastard."

Sanzo makes no reply, but simply walks away, leaving Gojyo rubbing the sting out of his scalp.

After that, Gojyo doesn't know whether or not Sanzo stops researching or merely becomes more circumspect about it. It doesn't really matter, though: as long as Gojyo can believe Sanzo has stopped, he is content. Without the constant reminder that _something is wrong with him_ , he starts to settle into himself. He takes little notice of his limiter now, though that has partly to do with his state of mind and partly to do with the habit he's developed of wearing long sleeves. Gojyo promises himself that this is a temporary change, especially on the all-too-many days where it's so hot that all conversation, all movement within the jeep comes to a halt and everything's quiet, save the occasional chirp of Hakuryuu.

They keep heading west, always to the west, going through dry spells where they don't see other living creatures for days—weeks if you don't count the frequent youkai attacks— and every night the sun drops suddenly below the earth, leaving them to make camp in the remains of the daylight and the dusty light of the jeep's headlights. Sometimes, an electricity vibrates between the four of them, silent and unseen but as real as anything else, and Hakkai coaxes Hakuryuu to drive himself at night. They all roll onward under the star-spattered night sky, falling asleep in their seats and waking just before the dawn in unfamiliar-but-more-of-the-same territories.

There are towns out there, too, scattered, never showing up on the all but useless map. Every time they crest a hill and come upon houses, it's a cause for silent celebration. It's a chance to stop and rest, to buy supplies, a hot meal and, if Sanzo's in a good mood—or a really rotten one because he's wounded from one fight or another and is unable to protest Hakkai's usurping the credit card—they might even purchase rooms for a night or two.

Alone, behind the safely locked doors of those infrequent rooms, Gojyo takes off his limiter. He locks himself in, locks everyone else _out_ , just in case, and checks and double checks the doors before he takes off the bronze bracelet that is his silent companion. Inn by inn, hour by hour by stolen minute, he gets used to the person he is beneath his hanyou skin. With his limiter set safely aside, Gojyo tries to reconcile himself with the truth. He gets practice at sudden transformations, can be there and back in five minutes because at first that's all he allows himself. He's too afraid of anything more, afraid he'll snap and go bad, afraid he'll hate himself even more the longer he looks at his inhuman skin.

He's afraid he'll find out he _likes_ being a youkai.

Gojyo becomes resigned to the idea of it, to this body and its ridiculously heightened senses. He hardens himself against the shock of _hair-claws-sight-heartbeat-youkai-heartbeat-scent-claws_. After hundreds of minutes, secreted away by the handful in these anonymous rooms, he becomes numb to the horror and surprise, and the way all the blood rushes through his head and leaves him dizzy for the first couple minutes doesn't bother him, is merely a fact of his existence. Gojyo spends longer stretches without the suppressing limiter fastened around his wrist, and to his relief, nothing bad happens. He decides that living this life behind closed doors, an hour at a time, is more than enough.

More weeks pass, and Gojyo adjusts. He is inured.

  
Gojyo opens the door to the room, beyond happy to see a real bed for the first time in a long time. Too bad the inn only had two rooms available, but he and Hakkai are more than capable of sharing the space. Hakkai's out shopping already with Hakuryuu in tow, though, so Gojyo has two packs in his hands, one his and the other Hakkai's. It's only fair, or so Hakkai had said when they'd disembarked at the inn's front steps.

Gojyo drops Hakkai's bag at the foot of the bed closest to the door and dumps the contents of his own pack onto the remaining bed. He does a quick sort-through of the laundry, shoves the dirties off the bed, and the rest he crams back in every which way. He kicks off his boots and uses the half-filled bag as a pillow, laying himself out across the bed. It's probably the best feeling in the world—a real bed is _heaven_ after being stuck in the jeep for so long and sleeping on top of the lumpiest ground yet between Chang An and whatever the fuck podunk town they're in now.

He lights himself a cigarette and smokes it quickly, mindful of how much time has passed since he parted company with Hakkai. Gojyo knows he's got plenty of time before anyone comes looking for him, but still… He crosses the room, locks the door, and deposits the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray at the side of the bed. He draws the curtain across the lone window.

Gojyo lays back down on his bed, takes a deep breath, and unfastens his limiter. He drops it beside the ashtray.

Dizzily, he counts in his head, waiting for his senses to stop bombarding him with information. Everything's too sharp and clear, and it's like he can see and hear and smell and taste everything in creation all at once. Soon, thought the vertigo fades away and the crush of overwhelming _sensations_ leaves as well. Gojyo sits up, mindful not to dig his claws into the bedclothes for balance. He's left more than his share of accidentally-shredded sheets behind, and he likes to think he can do better than that these days. He brushes the hair back out of his face and wonders, for the millionth time, why taking off the limiter makes his hair grow at least two feet. It's fucking ridiculous.

Gojyo fishes out another cigarette, lights it, and catches the butt between his teeth. He's careful not to hook his lip with a claw in the process—again, painful experience behind the logic in that. He smokes this one a little more slowly, savoring the subtle differences in taste. Except for the lack of impact the nicotine has on his youkai form, smoking is one activity that's more or less the same, and Gojyo clings to that same-ness. It's one of the things that helps him convince himself that he's still the same person.

Crushing his cigarette out in the ashtray, Gojyo hesitates. What to do next? He paces around the room, already bored out of his skull.

"Heh," he says. "'Not like I can just mosey on downstairs to the bar."

It's a useless exercise, this, when he's got nothing to do except walk around the room and _be_. He should have planned this better, bought some booze downstairs or something. Gojyo shrugs. He looks around the room a little more. There's the bedside table, stationed between the two beds. There's also a rickety sort of sitting-down-at table on the wall opposite, with two mismatched chairs. There's nothing else for furniture and nothing at all of interest in the room. Even the faint stains on the floor and walls are perfectly ordinary, the kind of stains that all well-used rooms acquire over time. Gojyo thumbs the deck of cards in his pocket thoughtfully.

"Solitaire it is," he says.

He stops pacing and pulls out one of the chairs at the table, sitting down backward in it. He folds his arms over the back of the chair and rests his chin on top. He gets out his pack of cigarettes and his playing cards. Gojyo realizes he didn't bring the ashtray over with him, and while he himself doesn't mind dirtying the top of the table, he knows Hakkai will have a fit—a silent but wholly effective fit—and Gojyo will be in the doghouse for days. So he heaves himself up again and gets the ashtray.

A sound out in the hall catches his ear; footsteps, light and even, and the rustle of bags of supplies. Gojyo instinctively knows it's Hakkai. The doorknob rattles, and there's a sigh from the other side of the door.

"Gojyo," says Hakkai. "Can you get the door? I'm afraid my hands are rather full."

Years of Hakkai's influence override Gojyo's body and he finds himself moving to the door, unlocking, and opening it. Hakkai looks a bit overwhelmed: his arms are overly full, some bags already starting to squeeze out of his grasp. Gojyo reaches to help.

"Sorry," says Gojyo. "Here, I can take some of that."

"Thank you, I—" says Hakkai.

The veneer of calm on Hakkai's face slips. His face goes pale, and Gojyo realizes all in a rush that he's forgotten to put his limiter back on. Hakkai drops the bags. The ashtray Gojyo has been holding thumps to the floor. Gojyo's face flushes with horror, and Hakkai pastes on his most polite, most fake smile.

"Oh," says Hakkai. "Please excuse me."

He turns away as if to leave, but Gojyo drags him inside the room, fueled by a panicked strength. He kicks the door shut behind them. His heart is beating too fast and his breath rushes in and out, in and out, loud and scared. He forcibly seats Hakkai on the nearest bed.

  
"I'm sorry," says Gojyo. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. Just, ah, let me, you know…"

He lets go of Hakkai to gesture to the limiter, still on the bedside table, and notices that his claws have blood on them. He looks at Hakkai, who is, in turn, looking up at him, and fairly calmly, considering the situation. His arm is bleeding, as are his shoulders where Gojyo's clawed hands had lain. Gojyo flinches like someone's punched him.

"Shit," he says. "Shit, I'm sorry."

He attempts to wipe Hakkai's blood off onto his jeans and instead manages to gouge his leg. The coppery scent of blood rises in the air, and the hairs on the back of Gojyo's neck stand up. Some strong, unnamed instinct rises in him, and he's absolutely petrified of it. His vision narrows and he dashes for the nightstand. Gojyo is aware of some noise, aware of Hakkai speaking, but he can't make out the words. He fumbles the limiter into his hand and struggles to get it on because his stupid fucking _claws_ are in the fucking way.

Too slowly for his own comfort, he finally slaps the bracelet around his wrist. Things get a little wobbly around the edges then, and Gojyo slides gracelessly to the floor, resting his back against the side of the bed. He glances down at his fingers. They're back to normal, though the tips of them still have a scrim of blood drying on them, in the nail beds and under the nail. His fingerprints are already rusty-colored and dry. Gojyo concentrates hard on taking deep breaths of air.

"Gojyo?" says Hakkai. "Are you all right?"

Gojyo nods as he scrubs his fingers on his shirt. There's a cold, trickly sensation on his leg. He looks down. Shit. He's bleeding from where he clawed himself. He notes distantly that his pants are going to need some serious repairs if he ever wants to wear them again. He stretches the leg cautiously. Gojyo hisses in pain, the his breath shaping itself around his clenched teeth.

"Gojyo?" says Hakkai. "I'm going to come around and have a look at you, all right?"

Gojyo realizes Hakkai's using his soft voice, his ridiculously soft, soothing voice meant for unwilling, scared people in need of healing, and Gojyo's almost insulted because he doesn't need coddling, dammit, but his leg hurts like fuck-all.

"Yeah," says Gojyo. "Got myself pretty good, I think."

Hakkai comes and sits on the floor across from him, and again Gojyo notices that Hakkai's bleeding. He feels horrible all over again.

"I'm so sorry," says Gojyo. "I just…I really didn't mean…"

"I understand," says Hakkai. "I'm fine. They're barely scratches."

Hakkai carefully explores the wound on Gojyo's leg. Gojyo tries not to move.

"If anything, it's my fault," says Hakkai.

"Huh?" says Gojyo. "But I'm the one who…"

"I surprised you," says Hakkai. "I'm sorry. If I had had any idea that you were, well…"

"Letting it all hang out?" says Gojyo.

It should have been funny—at least, it had sounded funny in his head—but no one is laughing. Gojyo bites the inside of his cheek as Hakkai starts healing him up. It's a fiercely itchy sensation, and he fists his hands at his sides against the urge to scratch.

"If I'd known you were exploring your youkai side," says Hakkai.

He sighs and shakes his head.

"It's not easy, is it?" he says. "I can't believe you'd take this on by yourself."

Gojyo is quiet. He watches Hakkai working, the light of his qi strong and unwavering. Hakkai sounds a little troubled.

"It's really very courageous of you," he says. "Though I'd thought…"

Hakkai stops talking for a minute, looking like he's a million miles away, though he continues to knit together Gojyo's flesh without visible effort.

"What?" says Gojyo. "What else was I supposed to do?"

Hakkai looks up at him, face serious.

"I'd hoped you might come to me," says Hakkai.

Gojyo is flabbergasted. He actually feels his jaw drop and, honestly, that's never happened to him before. His thoughts stutter.

"But! You never even _said_ anything," says Gojyo.

"I didn't want you to feel pressured," says Hakkai. "There. All finished."

He pats Gojyo's leg and it's good as new, as far as Gojyo can tell.

"Thanks," says Gojyo. "But you should take care of yourself first next time."

Hakkai blinks, nonplussed. Gojyo blinks, too, processing, trying to figure out what wrong now.

"Er," says Gojyo. "Not that there's going to _be_ a next time."

"Oh," says Hakkai.

He gets up off the floor and waits with an air of expectance, though he doesn't look Gojyo directly in the eyes but rather at a fixed point somewhere above and to the right of Gojyo's shoulder.

"It's simple," says Gojyo. "I'm not going to take off my limiter, not ever again. Limiter on equals no accidents."

Gojyo stretches, then gets off the floor as well. Hakkai stares at him. He's got one hand glowing, healing his arm. He sighs and starts on a shoulder. Gojyo can't look any more at the damage he's done, and so he instead tries to pick the blood out from his fingernails.

"Being a youkai," says Hakkai. "It's what you are, Gojyo."

"I almost _killed_ you," says Gojyo. "And if I can do that to you…"

He stops mid-sentence, too wrapped up in his own little slice of hell to finish the thought aloud.

"No, you didn't," says Hakkai. "And you wouldn't have, either. I can take care of myself."

Gojyo just about jumps out of his skin when Hakkai wraps his hands around Gojyo's. He tugs, experimentally, but Hakkai doesn't let go. The torn thigh of his jeans feels tacky as he shifts in place. Hakkai smiles sharply at him. Sometimes it's easy to forget that he's is just as strong as the rest of them, as mild-mannered as he often is. Gojyo finds himself suddenly fascinated with that duality. His anxiety blunts itself on these thoughts and he gains some relief from it.

"Yeah, yeah," says Gojyo. "You've made your point. You could pound me into the ground if you wanted."

Hakkai nods and releases him.

"If I felt the need to defend myself, I would," says Hakkai.

"But you'd fix me up after, right?" says Gojyo. "After all, what's a little harmless pounding between friends?"

He and Goku squabble and scrap all the time, but Goku isn't anything like Hakkai. Gojyo wonders whether or not such a fight would harm their friendship. It's hard to tell how Hakkai takes things, sometimes. And then it occurs to him how what he's said about, er, fighting —and it was _totally not pervy in his head_ —might sound to Hakkai.

Gojyo can feel a sheepish, embarrassed grin taking over his face. A quick look at Hakkai shows that he's really put his foot in it this time: the other man is standing stiffer than a statue, and he's got the weirdest expression on his face. Obviously Gojyo's fucked this up big time. Okay. An apology would be really good now. He struggles for the right words.

"Uh, sorry about that, Hakkai," he says. "The, uh, you know, the thing about pounding kind of came out wrong."  
   
"Really," says Hakkai.

His voice is cold. His eyes bore into Gojyo, and Gojyo wants to squirm with embarrassment. He's obviously mortally offended his best friend, and Gojyo knows exactly what he's done wrong, and he can't un-do it. He brushes a couple strands of hair away from his face nervously. Friends don't hit on friends, or even make it sound like some sort of really lame come-on, except if you've got one of those sorts of friendships in which you _do_ exchange innuendo…but he and Hakkai really don't have that kind of thing going on, which is the root of the problem here. _Whoah_. He realizes that the idea of flirting with Hakkai, of swapping innuendo with him, has started to get his interest below the belt. Gojyo's thoughts come to a screeching halt. He sits down on the nearest bed, fast.

Once he partly recovers from the shock of realizing that he finds his best friend somehow attractive, recovers at least enough not to be short-circuited by his own thinking, Gojyo's first instinct is to pass it off as not having gotten laid lately. In all the time since he gained his limiter—like it was some kind of fucking merit badge, hah!—Gojyo hasn't slept with anyone. He is vaguely—no, _acutely_ — afraid that he'll lose what control he has and turn into a youkai mid-fuck. Plus, and maybe this is more importantly than that, Gojyo doesn't want anyone asking questions about his limiter. What if some ambitious would-be lover tried to take it off him? No, it was far better to leave the general public alone for now, just until he was really sure.

But Hakkai isn't public, and Hakkai won't ask questions or try to remove the metal wrapped around his wrist. Furthermore, Gojyo's nose and eyes tell him that Hakkai's _interested_ , because the complex, pleasant scents that Hakkai is emitting have to be pheromones. _Excited_ pheromones. It's a dead giveaway, too, the way Hakkai's pupils open up and swallow the green of his eyes. This somehow surprises Gojyo, one surprise too many in so short a time, and so he breaks eye contact abruptly. He peeks and sees Hakkai staring down at him, scrutinizing him. The little twist of desire in the pit of his stomach is rapidly getting bigger.

Gojyo wonders, suddenly, how sharply Hakkai can sense these things as well, if Hakkai's damped down senses are as strong as his. If the sudden jump of his eyebrows is anything to judge by, Hakkai's more than up to the task. Gojyo watches, in fascinated horror, as Hakkai's eyes take a brief detour down below Gojyo's waist and then flick back up again to his face.

"That was impolitic of me," says Hakkai. "My apologies."

He sighs and sits on the other bed, facing Gojyo.

"But I suppose the proverbial cat is now out of the bag," Hakkai says.

He seems a bit unfocused as he looks at Gojyo while speaking. But, Gojyo is interested to see, Hakkai's pupils are still blown wide, and he hasn't stopped smelling good. So damn good. Gojyo exhales and it comes out more like a sigh. Gojyo feels like a saint for resisting the urge to really check Hakkai out.

Though this isn't the first time Gojyo's considered taking a man to his bed, it's the first time he's actually wanted, _really_ wanted, to follow through out of something more than idle curiosity. And at this moment, with Hakkai's knees mere inches from his own, he has to wonder why he hasn't—why they haven't—done this before because it already feels like it's going to be spectacular, and they aren't even touching. Gojyo shifts forward, just enough so that his kneecap grazes Hakkai's.

"Maybe it's just you," says Gojyo.

Hakkai blinks.

"I beg your pardon?" he says.

"Never mind," says Gojyo. "Tell me why we've never…"

He makes a gesture, a wobbly sort of gesture that's somehow supposed to convey the idea of sex. It doesn't really, but Hakkai gets it anyway. He's good like that.

"As I recall, you were quite adamant the first time we met," says Hakkai. "I was trying to be respectful."

Gojyo stares at him for a long, unblinking moment before cracking up laughing.

"There you go again with that respectfulness thing," he says.

Hakkai laughs as well, genuine and soft, his head tilted back and his mouth spread wide. After the laughter dies out, they both lean forward into the space that lies between the beds, scooting forward to the edges of the mattresses, legs stiffened for balance. Gojyo plants his elbows on top of his thighs, resting his chin on his hands. He touches foreheads with Hakkai, and it's the best he's felt in months. He closes his eyes briefly, reveling in the comfort. Hakkai is warm against him, his breath coming out soft and ticklish against Gojyo's throat. Gojyo opens his eyes again and is almost overwhelmed by the green of Hakkai's. Hakkai looks expectant, patient, kind. A thought comes to Gojyo, and it's not one he likes much.

"Don't tell me you've been waiting all along…" says Gojyo. "For me to…you know."

Hakkai looks confused for a moment, then shakes his head in answer.

"No, of course not," he says. "I've kept myself busy, though I do admit I was tempted, on occasion, to see what might happen if I pushed you a little harder."

Gojyo didn't know—until now—that Hakkai had been pushing at all. His dismay at this must show on his face, because Hakkai is all too quick to reassure him.

"It's all right," says Hakkai. "As I said, I didn't expect anything to come of it."

Hakkai sounds upbeat about the whole thing. Too bad this optimism makes Gojyo feel even worse, like maybe Hakkai's cheerfulness is a cover. Gojyo knows Hakkai pretty well, and he worries that this lack of expectations is founded somehow in self-loathing, like Hakkai doesn't think he _deserves_ good things in his life. Not that Gojyo necessarily considers himself a good thing, and he's not exactly in Hakkai's life, not like _in_ his life, all up close and personal…

"Shit, Hakkai," he says. "Just…shit."

"Mmm," says Hakkai.

It's a neutral enough noise, and Gojyo knows Hakkai's giving him time to think things over. There's remarkably little enough left to think about. Gojyo eases back onto the bed and lays there for a few minutes, legs dangling off the edge, the bloody patch on his jeans cold and damp. The room is quiet enough for easy thinking; there's little noise beyond the both of them breathing. He closes his eyes.

"Hakkai?" says Gojyo. "Get over here."

He flinches at the sound of his voice. It's too loud, really, after all the quiet.

"If that's what you want," says Hakkai.

The bed next to Gojyo dips, and he struggles to calm his suddenly racing heart. Hakkai's so fucking quiet sometimes, and even though Gojyo's expecting him, his arrival is still surprising. Gojyo cracks an eyelid. Hakkai lays down next to him, neatly, without fuss, and one whole side of his body is lined up and touching Gojyo's. It would be easy, really, _really_ easy just to roll over and climb on top of him and have at it, except Gojyo's feeling more than a bit of performance anxiety at the moment, suddenly faced with the possibility of his first real _mano a mano_ …uh. Yeah.

He cuts off his own thought, suddenly embarrassed and remembering that one…couple…few… times with the _totally not gay_ exchange of handjobs with that one guy he used to hang out with. So maybe Gojyo isn't quite as lily-pure as he sometimes thinks of himself. So what? That crap with B—with that guy didn't mean anything. It's got nothing to do with now. Gojyo finds the silence in the room stifling. He has to make a little noise to break the tension.

"So," says Gojyo. "Ever done it with a redhead before?"

That was an absolutely stupid thing to say. Why had he said that, of all things? He sneaks a sideways glance at Hakkai, only to find him shaking—albeit silently—with laughter. Hakkai's practically convulsing on the bed, and every move he makes jiggles Gojyo. Hakkai catches his breath, pressing the back of one hand to his mouth. He regains his composure all too quickly.

"I suppose it's pointless for me to ask whether you've engaged in…congress before with another man," says Hakkai.

Gojyo barks a laugh, the tension whooshing out of him.

"Congress?" he says. " _Congress?_ What the fuck, Hakkai."

He looks at Hakkai again, noticing the humor that lurks in those green eyes.

"Me and men," says Gojyo.

He pretends to think, while butterflies re-form in his stomach.

"You're right," says Gojyo. "I couldn't give you a straight answer on that one."

This time he and Hakkai both crack up. And even as they're laughing, Gojyo notices that he's getting a total proximity hard-on, Hakkai being nearby and attractive and what parts of him he can feel are toasty warm, and the idea of having some kind of sex is sounding pretty good right now, actually. Gojyo's been accused before of thinking with his dick, but he thinks, now, that maybe he's been over thinking this thing, just a little.

"You and me," says Gojyo. "You think so?"

"By all means," says Hakkai.

There's something predatory in his face, and so it doesn't come as a complete surprise when Hakkai is the one to make the real first move. He straddles Gojyo with gratifying accuracy, and their clothed groins brush and but _damn_ , Gojyo knows it's been too long since the last time he had sex, if a little friction hits him so hard. Gojyo pushes up against Hakkai and desire runs over him like a freight train. Sucking in air, Gojyo lets out a little groan.

"Gojyo?" says Hakkai.

He sounds a little concerned, and Gojyo meets that concern with a grin.

"Sorry," he says. "Been a while."

"Ah," says Hakkai. "I understand. It has been some time for me, as well."

Hakkai, bless his heart, worms one of his hands between them and makes short work of Gojyo's fly. Gojyo's brain is addled enough by this brief handling that he attempts to continue the conversation.

"I haven't done it since, well," says Gojyo. "Anyway, it's been a few months."

"I see," says Hakkai. "I'm afraid I haven't indulged since before we started our little road trip. I do hope I haven't gotten rusty."

Hakkai smiles at him and undoes his own pants. Gojyo is left gaping, and if his mouth could have gotten any wider, it would have when Hakkai pulls out a small bottle that is, unmistakably, lube.

"But I thought you said," says Gojyo.

He tries hard to think, but his brain gets scrambled by the touch of Hakkai's hand again. It's slick and warm and strong and he bucks into the contact.

"I said I kept _myself_ busy," says Hakkai. "I'd like to think that that solitude has granted me a certain proficiency in the matter at hand."

As if to make his point, Hakkai's fingers do some infucking _credible_ things that render Gojyo incapable of speech. Gojyo swallows back the saliva that floods his mouth.

"Fuck," says Gojyo. "I'm not gonna last if you keep that up."

And it's true. The urge to come, and come soon has struck him faster than he would have believed. He joins his hand with Hakkai's, fisting their dicks together, easy and simple and oh-so good. Hakkai orchestrates the movements. Sweat pops out in pinpricks along Gojyo's hairline, and he wallows in the accumulated slickness between them.

"Perhaps we should slow down," says Hakkai. "If you're having trouble keeping up."

He's sounding a little out of breath himself. Gojyo looks up into his face, and he sees that Hakkai has gained a certain flush of color and sweat with their proceedings. He can smell the pheromones in the air, intoxicatingly thick and heavy. 

True to his word, Hakkai slows down, moving their combined hands up and down at a pace so slow but yet so thorough that Gojyo feels himself being dragged to the finish, whether he likes it or not—but oh, how he _likes_ it. It's agonizingly clear that Gojyo's going to come if he can just get a little more speed going.

"Hakkai," says Gojyo. "If you don't—"

He is rewarded with a beautiful corkscrew maneuver that has him seeing stars and biting his lip, cutting off whatever he was going to say. He exhales hard.

"Do that again," he says. "For the love of god, Hakkai, I'm dying here!"

He can feel his pulse in his dick, so clearly that he's starting to think that coming will actually kill him. Their joined fingers skid over the tops of their dicks, and the tip of Hakkai's pinky does a little swirl there, nudging their flesh together just that much more, and it's more than enough to catapult Gojyo right over the edge.

"Yeah," he says. "Fuck yeah."

He tenses up and his body does its thing, shooting hard and adding to the general mess they've got trapped in their hands. He's peripherally aware of Hakkai coming too, in very short order, the warm wet of it splattering onto Gojyo's abs before Hakkai collapses on top of him in a heap of pointy elbows and knees.

Gojyo's afterglow is generally uninterrupted by this, if only because he can feel Hakkai's eyelashes brushing against his shoulders, and the dampness of his breath is regular on the side of his neck, even if his face is so close that it's out of focus. Nothing else seems to matter, now that things are so agreeably right between the two of them.

"That was," says Gojyo.

He can't even finish his thought, fuzzy and fleeting as it is.

"Indeed," says Hakkai. "It was."

The rise and fall of Hakkai's breathing presses their chests together even further. Gojyo realized, somewhat belatedly, that they haven't even taken their clothes off.

"Next time," says Gojyo. "Nudity."

"Mmm," says Hakkai. "Next time."

His hair brushes, ticklish-like, against Gojyo as he nods agreement.

And the mere thought of a next time is enough to get an interested twitch out of his anatomy. An answering twitch comes from Hakkai, and Gojyo grins fit to burst, because today he's the cat who's got the canary, the bird in the hand, and possibly the two in the bush, too.

"Yep," Gojyo says, satisfied. "Still got it."

The next day, their little group bids the inn farewell as they head out into the unknown again. Things between Gojyo and Hakkai are quiet and a little rocky—at least, they are on Gojyo's end of things because, for some stupid, stupid reason, the voice in the back of his head is somehow _dissatisfied_ that there wasn't some big giant moment of resolution or clarity, no amazing guidepost for him to know he's done something right for a change. And then, later that first afternoon, Hakkai hands him the map with an offhand comment about knowing where they are headed in relation to where they've been. The little town from the previous night isn't on the map, officially, but Gojyo is tickled to see that Hakkai—oh _please_ , let it have been Hakkai—has added a little asterisk to the long, winding graphite line. It's the spot where the town they've just come from might be. Gojyo takes it as a good sign.

  
The days that come are largely like the ones that have already passed: the long, dusty roads that snake through the countryside; frequent side-trips to monasteries; even more frequent youkai attacks; the usual in-jeep bitching and banter. Still, the first time they come to an inn where Gojyo can get a little privacy, enough to lock the door and take off his limiter, he finds he is no longer alone. Hakkai is by his side. And where he expected it to be awkward and embarrassing, it is instead easy and, frankly, a relief. Hakkai doesn't turn away from him, probably because Gojyo hasn't accidentally…well… _flashed_ him like some kind of pervert with a trench coat. Gojyo basks in the acceptance and comes out of the locked room feeling more human than he did before, all evidence to the contrary.

Another little asterisk marks the map when they leave that inn behind. And when they come to the next, and the lodgings after that, and after that, asterisks begin to dot the map. Each time, Hakkai follows him into the room, and each time Gojyo comes out of it happy that his best friend probably won't stop being his friend after all. Hakkai shows no problem at all with Gojyo-as-youkai. In fact, Hakkai seems to find his youkai appearance fascinating…and attractive. That sort of admiration—and the sorts of hands-on things Hakkai does to express it— does wonders for Gojyo's ego and his confidence.  
   
When Gojyo looks at the map some weeks down the road, he notices with a little manly pride that the asterisks corresponding with the places that he and Hakkai do a little mutual worship are more _emphatic_ than the ones where they've just talked or sat quietly. Gojyo vows to himself to raise the standard and see how bold and deep he can get Hakkai to make the little stars.

(He soon discovers that if he can convince Hakkai to take off his own limiters as well, the emphasis of his pencil will scratch through the map. Gojyo congratulates himself on a job well done.)

Day is replaced by night, and night turns into day, and still they travel onward, to the west. Despite the gruesome battles and constant danger, Gojyo finds himself sliding a little more toward contentment every day. He's coming to a truce with himself, hour by hour. The idea that he might never be completely comfortable with himself is a foregone conclusion: he's already accepted it as true and, in doing so, Gojyo has worn away the sharpest edges of his fear. Or, at least, that's what Hakkai keeps telling him. For Gojyo, it's enough that Hakkai, the person he trusts more than anyone or anything, believes it.

They are hurtling toward their shared destinies—or so the gods would have them believe—and Gojyo comes to the thought that, though some things have changed, the most important things have stayed the same. He's still the same person he has been, more or less, and Hakkai is too, and so is Sanzo and even Goku. They do what they have to, day after day. They keep pushing to the west, into the fading light of the day, letting nothing stand between them and their goal. Not even themselves.

Gojyo thinks he can live with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! It's finished! I hope it wasn't too full of optimism for you. (I'm certainly happy with it. ^_^) I think it ended up in a good place. I'd only ever intended this to be a simple sort of story, and I think I've accomplished that.


End file.
